Keeper
by Racquet
Summary: Even in death he'll protect him, even in death he's Jack's keeper. Oneshot.


**A/N:** This was written for the October challenge at Garrett Minds.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Bobby slammed the door to his old, beat-up car closed, pulling the heavy leather jacked tighter around him before starting across the lot and pushing through the heavy wrought iron fences. He walked slowly past the stones, kicking a path through the damp fall leaves that dominated the ground and rested in tall, unkempt piles. It didn't take him long to find what he'd been looking for, though he'd only been there a handful of times. He stopped in front of the rectangular marker, setting the heavy paper bag on the smooth surface before stooping in the thick foliage. He stared blankly for a second before using his hands and forearms to push the leaves away, the chiseled words slowly becoming visible. He rocked back on his heels, staring at the stone in the fading light, reading the simple words that introduced his brother to the world.

_Jack Anthony Mercer, Beloved Son and Brother_.

He reached towards the stone, running a finger across the thick crack that ran the length of the marker. Anger flared deep in his chest. Last Halloween a bunch of teens had gotten drunk and trashed the cemetery. They'd tipped Jack's stone over and it'd cracked in half. Jerry had righted it again with the help of the cemetery coordinator, it had defied the laws of common sense and held together, though the coordinator told Jerry he didn't think it would hold for long, that they might want to look into replacing it. But they wouldn't, money was short and the three of them were the only ones who visited him anyway. They didn't need a piece of stone to tell them who their brother was, had been.

When Bobby came home he'd gone to the station, demanded to know the names of the kids who had wrecked Jack's plot. They were minors, he was told, they couldn't give out the names. They'd called security to escort him out of the building. But this year, he was ready. Bobby stood, wiping his dirty hands unconsciously against the thick denim of his jeans before reaching into the waistband, pulling out a small pistol. Setting it beside the brown bag he used his heavy boots like shovels, clearing the rest of the leaves from the small area. He grimaced at the weeds and overgrowth of grass that lay beneath. He knew there was no use in trying to clean it up now, they'd just grow back worse by the time he got around to coming back, whenever that would be, he couldn't say.

He turned and walked back towards the stone, pulling himself to rest on the rectangular headstone before reaching into the bag and pulling out a dark bottle. Twisting off the cap he took a long pull and allowed the heels of his boots to bump easily against the makeshift seat. The cold October air chilled his exposed face and ears as he took another swig, remembering the eventful Halloween from only three years ago, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the memory.

-- -- --

_The first time he'd seen the costume it had scared the ever-living shit out of him as he attempted to steal clean socks from Jack's closet. The mammoth hot-dog had fallen through the doorway as he'd pulled the door open, eliciting a cry of surprise as he swung at the figure, which crumpled at the blow. Apparently Jack had been attempting to hide it from his brothers, embarrassed of the six foot tall wiener. Bobby didn't blame him, but it also hadn't stopped him from teasing the youngest Mercer about it at every chance he got. He knew Jack cringed every time Bobby offered to drop him off at work, a small drive-in across town where he would stand outside and wave in customers from inside the stuffy costume, all to pay for his share of the storage area where Jack and his band members practiced every weekend. _

_Eventually the taunts had died down, though never completely dissolved as it was beyond Bobby's self-control capabilities to keep a joke to himself, especially if he thought it was good enough to make Jack turn red and refuse to speak to him for days on end. But more or less the wiener in the closet became old news... until Halloween._

_Halloween had never been a particularly eventful night in the Mercer house since the brothers had outgrown first the days of costumes and then the nights of causing mischief around the neighborhood. As Evelyn was quick to point out, enough trouble found it's way to her boys that they needn't go looking for it on purpose. And for the most part the brothers agreed._

_But when Jack came home from a party that night, stumbling through the door only with the support of two friends who were gracious enough to drop him on the sofa beside Bobby before stalking out, muttering about the vomit that now littered the backseat, the temptation proved to be just a little too much. Through laughter muffled in sleeves and a few tense moments as Jack shifted in his drunken lack of consciousness, Bobby and Angel somehow managed to strip their younger brother and wedge him into the giant fabric hot dog without waking the teen. Bobby doubled over, biting hard on the fist he'd wedged in his mouth to stifle the laughter as Angel took a black magic marker to their brother's face, sketching out a crude penis on his cheek, the lines jagged with his own fit of repressed gales._

_Somehow they'd managed to get Jack out of the house and into the back of Bobby's car, wedging the ends of the bulging costume into the seats, the doors bouncing off the fabric until they'd managed to fit it just enough for the doors to click shut. The town was dark as they drove around, plotting their next move as they drifted through the cold streets of Detroit. _

_Somehow they'd ended up outside of the local high school's football stadium, where bolt cutters took care of the gate and Angel and Bobby carried their semi-conscious brother to the 50 yard line, gently setting him down before taking off for the car, slapping each other on the back in congratulations of their accomplishment. _

_They stopped at a pay phone on the way home, calling the police with an anonymous tip that someone had broken into the football field before rushing home to await the call. Bobby waited by the phone as Angel slept, determined not to let Ma answer the phone, to find out the predicament that Jack had gotten himself into. That would be cruel. And when the call did come, at six thirty the next morning Bobby was ready for it, sounding surprised and concerned as they told him they had Jack and could he come and pick him up as soon as possible. He'd assured them he would and then jumped in the shower, he pulled into the station parking lot a little past eight o'clock in the morning. _

_Bobby hid a smile as they led Jack into the lobby, still half out of it and sporting nothing except the oversized costume and the marker art across his face. His face turned a dark shade of red as his eyes focused on Bobby and the officer told him that Jack was being charged with underage drinking, breaking and entering, and a half dozen other minor violations he'd long since forgotten. He'd have a hearing in a few weeks. Bobby told Jack he hoped the permanent marker would wash off by then and the color of Jack's face darkened again. _

_Jack remained quiet on the ride home, answering Bobby's questions with a simple yes or no and dutifully listening to the lecture's he spewed as he drove. Until Bobby slid in, just to see if Jack was really listening, how great he had looked lying in the middle of that field and Jack had turned to Bobby and in one swift movement punched his older brother in the side of the head, sending an unprepared Bobby careening into the only telephone pole on the street. _

_-- -- --_

He didn't remember much after that, only that he'd broken his nose on the steering wheel and that he and Jack had scuffled before starting the long walk home. A sight they must have been, one brother covered in blood from his nose, the other wearing nothing but a revealing hot dog costume.

It was hard to believe. That it had only been three years since that night, it seemed like forever since he'd seen Jack. Only a little over two years since he'd dropped Jack off at the bus station, sending him off to New York with a pocketful of cash, an old duffel bag and his guitar. Nine years since Jack had walked through the door of the Mercer house, quiet and skittish, eyes following their every move. Six years since Evelyn had forced him to watch Jack and his band, if you could call it that, play in the Spring talent show at school. It seemed to Bobby like Jack had been gone forever. Forever since he held Jack that day in the snow, the blood dripping from his mouth as they waited for the paramedics to get there. Held him until the police took him away, zipped him up in the black body-bag, loaded him into the ambulance and drove him away.

Bobby looked up from the beer in his hands as the light began to peek through the trees, it's warmth causing goosebumps across his skin as he pushed himself off of the stone, turning to face it as he stood a few feet away. He raised the bottle, the remaining liquid swirling at the bottom.

"This one's for you Jack."

The name felt like thick in his mouth from disuse. He lifted the bottle to his lips and allowed the alcohol to slide down his throat and rest in his stomach, aching as it forced it's way past the lump in his throat. He could feel the prickling behind his eyes and willed it away, closing his eyes tightly and pressing a fist to his forehead. His breathe came in ragged gasps as a few rogue tears forged trails down his face as his fist moved over his heart, pressing against his chest as he fought to control the emotions.

As his breaths began to slow and the empty bottle grew cold in his hand Bobby stood, approaching the stone again as he dropped the empty bottle into the brown bag where it knocked against the five other empty bottles that lay there, creating a coarse melody as he held the bag in his left hand, using the right to replace the gun in his waistband. Laying his hand flat against the cool stone Bobby spoke.

"I'll see you around, fairy."

With that he wiped the remains of the salty tears from his chilled skin and started for his car, stride even in the brisk morning light.

And the concludes my first fic where Jack is actually gone. It depressed the shit out of me, figuratively of course.

racquet.


End file.
